


A Matter of Perspective

by IsoscelesMonster



Series: Eternities and Cycles [1]
Category: Flatland - Edwin A. Abbott, Gravity Falls
Genre: flatland theories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsoscelesMonster/pseuds/IsoscelesMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short musing based on a theory. Sometimes, godhood is really just a matter of perspective, and sometimes there are reasons for waiting an eternity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> This was written shortly after the finale, and it contains a theory that's to be the basis of my long, involved, plot and worldbuilding-heavy WIP story Exwhylia. That one is taking ages to write, though, so you get this in the meantime!

They used to worship him.  
  
Offerings and temples, pyramids built of stone and labor and sweat and death, statues wrought in gold and jewels. Paintings in the deepest caves, tapestries in the finest silk. Blood and livestock and children and pain. Chants and stories, songs and oh so entertaining screams. They'd looked up to him, they'd sacrificed willingly.  
  
_Chaos god._  
  
It wasn't true, not really, not precisely. But when you pretend to be something long enough, it's hard to remember you were ever anything else.

 _Lie until you aren't lying anymore._  
  
Or maybe godhood is never more than a matter of perspective. What's in a name? He'd mastered the secrets of time and space before he even watched this pathetic species drag itself out of the ocean, scrabbling in the mud for a better life. He'd watched civilizations rise and fall as they struggled to come down from the trees.  
  
If that didn't make him some kind of a god, what did? He knew more than any of his followers ever would. His followers, and once upon a time there were many, were desperate for a glimpse beyond the veil of reality, desperate for knowledge and understanding, for secrets and mystery. Desperate for something, anything beyond their short, tiny lives. They wanted answers, they wanted to see the wonders of the universe.  
  
And he could provide. Of course they loved him, of course they feared him, of course they worshiped him.  
  
Who wouldn't?  
  
Pretend to be something long enough, and it's hard to remember you were ever anything less. But time moves on, and the world moves on, and cultures die out or seek their secrets elsewhere, societies turn to their own sciences. People stop fearing the dark, or they reach for the stars on their own. Gods rise and gods fall.  
  
Hardly anyone remembered him now, and that made it harder to forget.  
  
But he only really needed one.

  
  
+++

  
  
Godhood really is a matter of perspective.  
  
When you're nothing, it's so easy for someone to be everything.  
  
When you're deformed, when you're defective. When you're different and try as you might you don't fit in, not really, and you know that you never will.  
  
He'd been young, and he'd longed for something, anything other than a life where he didn't matter, where his freedom was stifled, where his individuality was nearly stamped out. A life with a father who thought of him as a freak and a brother who barely understood him. A life full of bullies and full of rules, where his mind was his only retreat.  
  
And then someone came along, someone who changed everything. It should have been impossible.  
  
A being from another dimension, a powerful being with knowledge and answers. A creature that could see so much, that could show him things he'd never even dreamed of. Someone that could explain the mysteries of the universe, someone beyond comprehension.  
  
But then, that wasn't the part that should have been impossible. No, that was the fact that this being noticed _him. Chose him._ That he took the time to show him these things, to teach him, to give him his answers. The fact that he cared, that he listened.  
  
That he told him he was special.  
  
He told him he was _smart._  
  
He told him he could change the world.  
  
Of course he'd worshiped him, who wouldn't?

  
  
+++

  
  
But that was then, and this was now, and things change. Gods rise, and gods _fall._  
  
Gods leave you, tell you that you can count on them and betray your trust, tell you that you can change the world and then let you find out what happens to people who _try._  
  
Things change, time passes, people forget. But he only really needed one. One person to build him temples and statues, one person to give him tribute and praise, one person to look up to him. The one person who mattered, because godhood was a matter of perspective, and when you're nothing, a scientist from the third dimension can be your _everything._  
  
Maybe it was petty, but he'd been waiting an eternity for this.

  
  
_I worshiped you, and now it's your turn._

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's the thing if Bill's a shape from Flatland who, somehow, found out about the third dimension. The novel involved the main character finding out there was more to the universe because something went dimension hopping and decided to teach science to a Flatlander.
> 
> ...And ruined his life, because the Flatlander decided to try and enlighten his people only to end up persecuted and imprisoned for illegal ideas.
> 
> Sounds like the kind of thing that might lead to someone fighting back and er... 'liberating' his dimension.
> 
> And hey, who do we know who went traveling the multiverse, and likes teaching science? Who might decide to befriend a tiny alien, without realising that maybe time isn't so linear between dimensions?
> 
> Credit for putting some of the dots together goes to my friend Shiny, writing is all mine.
> 
> Expanding on this whole idea in Exwhylia, so stay tuned. But I'd been sitting on this pile of feelings for too long.


End file.
